Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Christian’s head snapped toward him.
Brock leaned over the table. “How do you know that? I thought we were keeping it quiet.”
Damian slowly turned his head. His black hair was growing out, and he looked more like Christian than the other brothers with the same cold composure, the same stillness. But where Christian was all silence and action, Damian was calculation and precision. His deep green eyes cut across the room, pausing on Amka, and then focused back to Christian. “I run security for one of the most insulated facilities in the world. Do you honestly think I don’t notice when a forensic team out of Anchorage reroutes to Knife’s Edge in the middle of the week?”
“Good point,” Brock muttered, taking a long drink of his coffee.
Damian kept his gaze on Christian. “What’s going on, or rather, when did it start?”
Christian didn’t flinch. “Last night.”
“Well. She’s a sweetheart.” Damian sat back. “Not great timing with her fiancé getting shot in the head.”
“No,” Brock said. “Definitely not.”
Damian turned to Brock. “Since there’ve been attacks on both her and Jarod, do you think it has something to do with whatever was going on between them?”
Christian answered before Brock could. “No.” His voice was sharp, final, and cold enough to stop that line of questioning where it stood.
“Well,” Damian said calmly, “maybe she knew something she didn’t know she knew. If that makes any sense.” He glanced up with a small smile as Amka set a glass of water in front of him. “Thanks, Amka.”
“Anytime.” She didn’t look at Christian. Her tone was polite, but she pivoted smoothly and walked back toward the bar without hesitation.
Christian tracked her retreat with a muscle tightening in his jaw. He didn’t say anything.
“Take it easy,” Ace said, leaning toward him. “She’s within sight.”
Christian didn’t respond.
“I hope she knows what she’s gotten into,” Damian grumbled, wolfing down the chowder like he’d skipped breakfast.
“She hasn’t gotten into anything,” Christian said, tone clipped. “This thing between us is short lived.” The words clutched something hard in his gut.
Ace barked out a laugh, Brock snorted, and a grin quirked one side of Damian’s mouth.
“Shut up,” Christian said. “She’s the type who needs a house, kids, a stable life. One in town.”
Brock nodded. “So give her that.”
“Right. While I’m gone half the time, out in the wilds,” Christian said. “That’s not exactly fair to her.”
“Too much of you at once is probably overwhelming anyway,” Damian said easily, tearing apart a sourdough roll.
Christian shot him a look but didn’t argue. He knew who he was.
“In the meantime, what’s the plan?” Damian asked, setting his spoon down.
Christian leaned back in his chair. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you have one?” Damian’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “Obviously someone’s targeting her. I hadn’t realized you and Amka had started something up.”
“We haven’t,” Christian said. The words came too fast.
Damian raised an eyebrow. “Protested a little hard there.”
“Whatever,” Christian muttered.
“Do you want her safe or not?” Damian asked.
Why did he have to drill down on it every damn time? “Yes,” Christian snapped.
“I figured,” Damian said, completely unfazed. “Which is why I’m asking—what’s the plan?”
“I was just going to stay by her side until we figure out who’s trying to hurt her,” Christian said. He knew how primitive and reactive he sounded. “But you’re right. The fact that Jarod’s dead does lend weight to the idea that it’s all connected.”
Ace stretched his shoulder in a habit he had picked up after the plane crash. Probably didn’t even know he did it. “We could take shifts watching her.”
“I’ve got her,” Christian said without hesitation.
Brock and Damian shared a look. It lasted a beat too long.
Christian didn’t move, but his voice dropped. “Knock it off.”
Brock smirked. “How good’s your intel, Damian?”
“Pretty good. One shot. No weapon found at the scene. His laptop and phone have not been recovered from either his place or the truck—which is weird.” Damian’s tone was all business now. “Somebody cleaned it up fast.”
Christian needed to know if Jarod had gone in Amka’s house. “Did he die in the truck?”
“I don’t know,” Damian answered. “I’ll get the report once the forensic team finishes. Probably before the troopers do.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin, folded it once and set it on the table. “I’ll share the information when it arrives.”
“Good,” Christian said, glancing across the room.
The troopers sat at a booth, working their way through bowls of chowder while chatting with the insurance adjuster. She listened intently, but no way were they telling her about Jarod. However, they were all interested in that explosion and fire.
“The fire’s interesting,” Damian said. “Apparently, there’s talk she might’ve set it herself.”
Brock coughed. “Amka? She would never do something like that.”
“They don’t know that,” Christian said, jaw tight.
Damian drank his water. “Somebody tell me why Amka was engaged to that jackass in the first place.”